


Tinseltown

by AvaRosier



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, And Really Horrid Names for Bars, F/F, plenty of Alcohol and Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 12:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2851169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Clarke Griffin gets mistaken for a boy and is assigned to the same dorm room as Bellamy Blake, goes and starts falling in love with his sister Octavia, and tries not to get killed by Santa Claus.  As you do.</p><p>(jaegermighty reviewed this and said: "<i>this was just like, chocolate. really really good chocolate. with lesbian sex filling!!!</i>")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tinseltown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaegermighty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaegermighty/gifts).



> This was going to be a nice little 5k fic. As you can see, it got away from me a bit. Happy Holidays Meagan!

At this very moment, Clarke Griffin has been in the town of Christmas for six days, seventeen hours, and forty-two minutes, and she’s already contemplating fleeing. The Arcadia Mall looked like Santa had thrown up all over it: ornate wreaths hung along the length of the roof and ribbons of red and green were woven above them. Tinsel lined the handrails and there was a constant stream of Christmas songs blaring over the tinny speakers. It was all so perfectly _festive_.

It was also the middle of August.

Clarke used to love Christmas.  But that had been before her father died and the world dropped out from underneath her feet.  She’s pretty sure that was half the reason her mother had decided to settle here after staying a few days in town during her cross-country motorcycle trip two years ago.  At present, Clarke was living with Abby until the dorm rooms opened, and it was nice being able to reconnect with her mother.  She still wasn’t sure why she had quit her own job in New Orleans and moved here. Maybe it was hearing the way her mom’s voice had changed when she spoke of the town and the people, as if she was excited to be _living_ again. And of course, when things had fallen through with Anya, Clarke had been ready for a radical change, herself.

Over the loudspeakers, a choir began the first notes to a familiar, haunting melody.  “ _Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright_ …” Clarke turned her head and her eyes couldn’t help being drawn to the ubiquitous masked figures standing silent sentinel along the walls, almost benignly costumed in red felt and white puff—until you looked down and saw the ominous shock-wands attached to their belts. Weathermen, Clarke knew they were, Mayor Wallace’s paramilitary force. With the modified gas-masks over their face, you couldn’t even tell if their eyes were on you. She shivered.

Why had she come to this place? Clarke tried to shake the distrust she had of the overly cheery people who streamed around her with brightly colored shopping bags. Oh, right, because she needed to find a few things for her dorm room before she moved in this weekend.  And she apparently needed an under-the-bed storage tray to accomplish this. At least she’d worn real clothes today instead of the sweats she’d taken to wearing most of the time. This was Clarke Griffin, getting her life back on track.

“You look lost,” a voice drawled from behind her. 

Clarke startled and spun around to face a brunette wearing a green Santa’s Elf costume, complete with the pointy ears.  _A really fit brunette_ , Clarke’s mind supplied, before an easy smile grew on her face.  “And I guess you’re here to take me to the North Pole?” She grinned at the other woman, only to have her witty reply shot down by a wrinkled nose.

“Ugh, no. I work at the Barnes and Noble over there. I can help you find the travel section, but as for finding fictional places that don’t exist…you’re on your own.”

 _Aaaand Clarke Griffin has no game_. Last time, it’d been Anya who’d made the first move and they’d already known each other for several months through their workplace.  Her smile turned into a grimace. “Sorry. It’s just…everyone seems really into the holiday here. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The elf shrugged, probably used to the strangeness of her town. “Some days I swear I live among aliens from outer space.  They actually make all the employees in the mall wear this stupid uniform. I’m Octavia.”

“Clarke.” She stuck her hand out for Octavia to grasp and was not-so-secretly thrilled that the other girl gave a firm handshake. She didn’t strike Clarke as one to do things by half-measure.

Octavia smirked at her. “So, you  _are_  new. What could possibly have brought you to Christmas?”

That…was a long story and one Clarke wasn’t in the mood to elaborate on. “I’m going to Mount Weather College to finish my degree.” Clarke fiddled with the strap of her messenger bag while Octavia scrutinized her.

“Nobody comes here for college,” she stated as if it were fact. Clarke shrugged blithely.

“I guess you were right. I  _am_  lost.” Octavia took the statement for what it was and didn’t press further.

“Well, you’re in luck because I’ve been living here for the past two years. So maybe I can help you find what you’re looking for.” She drew her words out playfully, so Clarke decided to give the flirting a shot again.

“Maybe you can. For starters, I need to find the art supply store and maybe get some new clothes. It’s been a while.”

Octavia linked her arms through Clarke’s and began to lead her across the mall towards the escalators. “Well, I really like Roxy’s but maybe you’d also like EarthQueens’. Neither will break the bank. I’m pretty sure the art supply store is a short ways away from Roxy’s, near the south exit.”

“Thanks,” Clarke told couldn’t help flushing a bit at the way their bodies bumped together as they walked. She had the distinct sensation that her world was shifting. But then again, that was probably the escalator moving underneath her feet. Clarke noticed two Weathermen patrolling the perimeter on the upper level and gently elbowed Octavia. “What’s up with them?”

Octavia’s face shuttered and she shrugged tersely. “Some people have been going missing, so Mayor Wallace has upped the security.” Clarke sensed that Octavia didn’t want to continue this line of conversation so she looked for a non sequitur.

“I’m not going to get you in trouble with your boss, am I?”

“Oh, I’m on a break," Octavia said airily, waving her hand unconcernedly. "I’ve got time. So what are you studying at MWC? I’m in for Linguistics.”

“Art. I might do illustrations for books. I’m also a trained tattoo artist, and I was lucky enough to get a job at one of the local studios. Maybe you’ve heard of it… _Grounders_?” As soon as she uttered the phrase ‘tattoo artist’, Clarke saw Octavia’s blue eyes, darker than her own, dilate and her bite down on her lower lip.

“Yeah, that’s probably the best place in town. I’ve been wanting to get a tattoo since forever, maybe you can get me a discount.”

Clarke’s mind was already heading for the gutter. Hot girls wanting her to put a needle to them pretty much did it for her. “I don’t know about a discount, but I can draw fake ones on you if you want to see whether you like my style or not.” _I’d get to touch you a lot_.

Octavia seemed excited at the prospect. “I already think I’ll like your style.” This time, her smile was more teeth and Clarke was a goner.

They stepped off the escalator and Octavia clicked her pen open again before grabbing Clarke’s hand and flipping her palm up. The two of them ignored the irritated mall patrons forced to walk around them once they reached the top of the escalator. The scratch of ink on the sensitive skin of her palms had Clarke suppressing a shudder and enjoying the nearness of another body to hers.

“You could just have typed your number into my phone,” she pointed out, not complaining in the least.

“This way’s more fun," Octavia winked at her before she stuck the pen into her cleavage and started to step backwards toward the bookstore. “Text me, and I’ll show you around.”

Clarke wriggled her fingers in a goodbye and didn't even look embarrassed when Octavia glanced over her shoulder to catch Clarke staring after her. It had been almost precisely seven months, twelve days, and four hours since Clarke had last gotten laid. But now she had the distinct feeling that her dry spell was about to end.

 

 

 

It was move-in day, and Clarke was hung-over. Honestly, it was all her mom’s fault. Abby had broken out a bottle of wine and the two women had been up until two a.m. watching horrible reality shows on cable and doing some mother-daughter bonding. A huge chasm had opened up between them after Jake had died in that accident and Clarke hadn’t understood, for a while, why Abby had finally quit her job in D.C. and moved out to some town in the middle of nowhere, selling the house Clarke had grown up in. But now that Clarke was trying to get past her depression, she thought she could sympathize with the desire to get out and _do_ something, anything, to change her life.

She skittered to a stop, her luggage bumping into the back of her legs. “There must be some mistake.” Clarke looked at the hallway full of very _male_ students. Glancing down at the official letterhead of the college, she saw _‘Dasher wing, room 319._ ’

A few guys noticed her and gave her friendly waves or a nod of the head, albeit a bit confusedly. Clarke tried to smile back but it probably came out as a grimace. _313, 318, 319_ …there was no mistake. The nameplates said **‘B. Blake’** and **‘C. Griffin’**.

 _You’ve got to be kidding me_.

She’d been told at one point or another in her life that _Clarke_ sounded like a boy’s name, so it wasn’t hard to guess what had happened. But there was nothing to do in the meantime but at least unload her car and store her things in the room until she could get the rooming situation straightened out. If she was in luck, the guy wouldn’t be an asshole or a creep. She used the key to unlock the door and dragged her things the last few feet inside.

Her roommate had already moved in, it seemed.  The bed on the left side of the room was covered in a dark blue duvet and striped sheets. Hospital corners, so whoever this _B. Blake_ was, he was neat. A stack of books sat on his desk, next to a pencil cup and a bunch of sticky notes. She bent over and peered at the spines. “ _Dynamics of appropriation in Roman poetry…Tacitus…Love, Sex, and Tragedy: How the ancient world shapes our lives_ …must be in Classics or ancient history,” Clarke deduced. She straightened back up and turned around, intending to head back down to the parking lot for the rest of her things. But she found her doorway blocked by several curious faces.

“Um…hi?”

The guy in front with spiky, jet-black hair gave an awkward little wave. “Hey. I’m Monty, I’m across the hall in 320. I couldn’t help but notice you’re a little…”

“Out of place?” The guy with the beanie hat drawled at the same time Clarke also finished Monty’s sentence.

“Female?”

Monty winced. “I wouldn’t have put it so bluntly, but yes. Not that it’s a problem or anything—” He rushed to add, obviously desperate to not offend. The longer-haired boy took that as his cue and jumped in to rescue his friend. “What we mean to say is, welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Even if you’re stuck with Bellamy.” The tallest boy said, glaring at the nameplate as if personally offended him. Ah, so the mystery roommate had a first name _and_ a reputation. Clarke chuckled and smoothed her hair back over one ear.

“Thanks, but that might be a bit premature. The Admin office seems to have seen the name ‘Clarke’ and assumed I was male. I’ll be talking to them later today to see about getting moved to the other wing.” Her declaration was met with rolled-eyes and more than one snort, totally not reassuring.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t count on that. We’re surrounded by the mountains and the ocean, so living space is at a premium here and the college bureaucracy is notoriously overburdened. I’m Finn,” the long-haired guy stuck his hand out for her to shake. The tall black guy with the antipathy towards her roommate gave her a friendly nod next.

“Wells.”

“Miller,” said beanie-boy, with a two-fingered wave.

They spent the next few minutes swapping the usual introductions. She learned in short order that Monty was there for botany and electrical engineering, his roommate Finn for polisci;  Wells for pre-law, with his roommate Miller being there for architecture. They seemed nice enough and told her if she was still around for dinner, she should tag along to the cafeteria with them.  Clarke accepted their offer and with that, they dispersed back to their dorm rooms and she headed downstairs to finish unloading her car.

Bellamy still hadn’t returned by mid-afternoon and she had sent off an email to the housing office before reaching for her phone and texting Octavia.

 

**_I’m finished unpacking for now._ **

**_Want some company?_ **

**_Sure, I’m over in Vixen 119._ **

**_My roommate ate half a pie for lunch._ **

**_She’s weird._ **

**_Rescue me._ **

**_On my way._ **

 

Clarke waved at her new friends as she locked the room back up and practically skipped towards the elevator in the common area. Vixen was in another building, but only a few minutes’ walk from Clarke’s own. Christmas had a relatively mild, temperate climate, and Clarke was grateful to escape some of the stifling heat she’d dealt with in both D.C. and in New Orleans, where she’d run away to after she dropped out of college. It was a fairly picturesque town—with what she suspected was gothic architecture mixed up with some more modern buildings for the sake of modern conveniences.

She knocked on the door and peeked around until she spotted Octavia waving her inside, bouncing over to her laptop to pause the playlist she had been listening to.  She had her hair twisted up into a loose ponytail and instead of the costume Clarke had met her in, she wore considerably more comfortable exercise pants and a purple sweatshirt zipped up over a black tank top.

“Hey! Whatcha think?” She waved her hand around, indicating the completely furnished and decorated room. Octavia had lucked out and gotten a nice room with higher ceilings and large, old-fashioned windows with iron fastenings. Her bedspread had those two characters from that tv show…whatever it was called…Clarke tried to remember the names… _Marceline and Princess Bubblegum?_

“Awesome!” She strolled further into the room and noticed the lack of a roommate. “I haven’t met my roommate yet, but boy do I have a story to tell that might top yours.”

“Really? Because the first thing Maya told me was that she would be nice and not report me to the RA for bringing unauthorized electronics in as long as I ‘removed them from the premises by tomorrow’,” she parroted. “And I told you she pretty much ate half a pie for lunch. Just that.” Octavia pointed to the half-empty plastic carton on top of the shared refrigerator.

Clarke wrinkled her nose in sympathy. “Sucks to be you. At least you didn’t get mistaken for a guy and placed in the male side of the dorms.”

“Shut up!” Octavia nearly bent over in two, squealing with laughter.

“Yeah, yeah. Have a nice laugh at my expense. I got the impression that I won’t be able to move. It’s either stay there or move in with my mom.  And I’d like to do this on my own.”

Octavia quietened and became more serious. “Yeah, I gotcha. I have an overprotective older brother that I just don’t want to deal with.” She finished the last under her breath and rolled her eyes before falling back onto her elbows on the bed, giving Clarke a challenging look. “But they say college is a great time to spread your wings. To be rebellious.”

Clarke didn’t want to risk sitting on Maya’s bed, so she rested a hip against Octavia’s desk. “Is that what I am? A rebellious phase?”

It was a valid question. Octavia had been sending her some very clear vibes, but Clarke didn’t want to just assume that Octavia really was inclined to date women. If she wasn’t ‘out’, that was alright. But Clarke didn’t just want to be a dirty little secret on a lark.

The look Octavia sent her said ‘you’re a dumbass’.

“ _I’m_ a rebellious phase, but most of my friends know I like both boys and girls. Family? Not so much, but that’s something I’m trying to find a way to deal with.” She shrugged before giving Clarke a saucy wink. “So yeah, I’m into you, but you’re going to have to woo me first.”

Clarke arched her eyebrows. “Woo you? Maybe you can give me a tour tomorrow and I’ll repay you with dinner in the town proper.”

That got a grin to break out across Octavia’s face. “You’ve got yourself a date.”

 

 

 

So Clarke was a bit over the moon when she made her way back to her dorm room. She hadn’t exactly been looking to get herself a girlfriend right away, or even hook up, but she wasn’t going to complain.  The door was ajar when she got back to her floor and Clarke squared her shoulders before striding through.

She was twenty-four now, a bit older than the average senior thanks to the years she’d lost, but the man lounging on the other bed looked to be several years older than even she.  Bellamy had a head full of messy, dark curls, dark tan skin, and a smattering of freckles across his nose. He looked up at her over the book he was reading with eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline.

“Hi, I’m Clarke. And yes, I’m female—”

“Oh, good. I wouldn’t have figured it out on my own,” Bellamy shot back dryly. Clarke knew her mouth was gaping open and closed in a good imitation of a fish, so she finally pressed her lips together and took a deep breath.

“ _But_ as I told the other guys, I’ve e-mailed Housing about the mix-up, so I’ll probably be out of your hair in a few days.” _I can only hope_.

“You met the others already? No wonder they were smirking at me earlier,” Bellamy muttered, almost entirely to himself.  Wow, this guy was a bucket of sunshine, wasn’t he?

“Yeah, I can’t see why they’d want to have a laugh at your expense,” Clarke told him levelly, earning her a mild glare. “But as it is, I don’t see why we can’t be mature adults about this. A few simple rules and this shouldn’t be too awkward at all.”

Bellamy gave a curt nod. “Alright.”

Well. So much for the five-minute spiel she had rehearsed on the walk back from Octavia’s room.  Still, she could deal with this in the meantime. She’d stuck her suitcases under the bed and made up her mattress so she would have a liveable space for the next few days. Perching on her desk chair, she opened her laptop and checked her e-mail. Nope, nothing yet. Okay, then. Perhaps a little diplomacy wouldn’t be amiss.

“Will you be joining us for dinner in the cafeteria? Monty promised he’d give me the rundown of which lines are good and which ones are liable to give me salmonella.”

There was a long pause from Bellamy’s side of the room and he seemed to be staring intently at the same sentence. “Maybe.”

 

It was going to be a long week.

 

As it was, Bellamy didn’t end up joining them for dinner that first night. Clarke decided she wasn’t going to push it, at least not before figuring out if there was a particular reason why he didn’t seem friendly with any of the others. Finding out that she worked as a tattoo artist got her some street cred with the guys and Clarke secretly relished having made new friends this rapidly. She’d always been a bit of a goody two shoes, and in high school and her first go-around in college, people had found that off-putting. She was still the same Clarke, just a little mellowed around the edges and weathered with experience.

The day after moving in, she got the official e-mail from the housing services telling her in no uncertain terms that she was stuck there. Which led to her perching on her bed and staring purposefully at Bellamy until he tore his eyes away from his laptop. “Yes?” He asked, finally.

“It looks like I’ll be staying here after all, so I thought we’d get those rules out of the way,” she started. “I can change my clothes in the women’s bathroom on the Dancer wing, but I would like some assurance that if it’s easier for me to just change here, you’re not going to gawk like—“

“I’m not an asshole, I can behave myself,” Bellamy muttered, looking insulted at the dig to his integrity.

“Well, that’s good to know. Also, we should just get a system recognized for when one of us needs the room for sex. I think if we know ahead of time, we could just ask—“

“If you’re just going to have your boyfriend over all the time—“

“Girlfriend,” Clarke corrected him firmly.

Bellamy didn’t miss a beat. “If you’re just going to have your girlfriend over all the time, I’m not going to have my senior year marred by constantly being sexiled.”

“And it won’t be,” Clarke insisted. “For the record, I don’t exactly have a girlfriend right now.  But I might. And I’m sure you might have somebody at some point. Which is why it’s good to be upfront about these things. I got sexiled a lot my first year of college, and I don’t want either of us to feel like we’re being forced out of our own room.”

That got a mollified nod from Bellamy. “A heads up if possible; if not, a text.”

“Perfect.”

The entire conversation went better than she had hoped, and Clarke bounced off her bed with a beatific smile.  Maybe they could really get along and have a great year.  She then rushed out of the room to meet up with Octavia for their three o’clock tour.  It ends up being really easy to talk to Octavia as they wandered from street to street, with Octavia occasionally pointing out pertinent buildings and, of course, the best bars and restaurants.

Clarke found out that Octavia was a year younger than her, and that it’d taken her a bit longer to finish school because she’d had to work in order to afford her tuition.  Her mom had opened her own tailoring business in a bigger city two hours away, and it sounded like Octavia was close to her.  It was just after 5 when Clarke’s phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a text from Monty.

 

**_Dinner?_ **

**_They have ham and pineapple pizza tonite._ **

**_Sorry, I can’t. Taking a hot chick out to dinner._ **

**_Say no more. I’ll let the others know._ **

**_Or not!_ **

**_Shit I should’ve asked first._ **

**_I mean u just told me u r into ladies, but I shouldn’t_ **

**_Assume I can just drop that into convo over dinner_ **

****

Finally:

**_This is Finn, I’ve taken Monty’s phone away. You may score in peace._ **

**_Tell Monty it’s alright. Really!_ **

 

Clarke couldn’t help giggling as she shoved the phone back into her purse. “So, if I wanted to woo you properly, where could I take you for dinner that would score points?”

“We-ellll, there’s this really good taco place about two minutes from here…” Octavia tried to make it look like she wasn’t eager to go there. Clarke nodded.

“Lead the way. You know…there’s a really bad joke in there somewhere.”

“About what? Oh, me liking tacos? Ha, ha it’d be even more hilarious if we actually had a hot-dog place in this town.”

Clarke was laughing loudly as she followed Octavia towards their destination. After dinner, they snapped a selfie together and Clarke instagrammed it. Belatedly, she remembered that Anya still followed her on there. She told herself not to care too much. This was her new beginning.

“Hey, would you like to come up and see my room? I haven’t actually unpacked everything yet, but you could meet my grouchy roommate and maybe some of the other guys. If that isn’t too much for you, that is.”

“Nah, that sounds good. I’m not in a hurry to have Maya glaring at me passive-aggressively until I finally ask her what she wants. She’s so pale, I think she might be a vampire or something,” Octavia mock-shuddered. It was a leisurely walk back up to the dorm rooms, punctuated by comparisons between MWC and UVA. Clarke punched the button for her floor and if she noticed the frown on Octavia’s face, she didn’t say anything.

“Okay, this is me…Dasher 319…” Clarke didn’t get to finish her sentence because Octavia was looking absolutely horrified.

“No. No fucking way. _Shit_!” And then she was grabbing Clarke’s wrist and dragging her past the closed door towards the stairwell. Clarke could only whip her head back and forth between Octavia and the door, trying to figure out if there was something she had missed.

“Octavia, stop! What’s going on?” She insisted, yanking her arm out of the other woman’s hold.

Octavia paused halfway down the step and spun around. “What’s going on is that you are roommates with my freaking _brother_ , Clarke!”Her voice echoed through the entire structure, making her words take longer to sink in.

“Brother?” Clarke asked dumbly.

“I can’t believe this.” Octavia shook her head, at a loss for words. And just like that, Clarke realized that her life was about to get more complicated than maybe she’d prefer.

“So…what now?” Clarke stepped down until she was level with Octavia. “You’re sure he wouldn’t be okay with this…I mean he was okay when I mentioned that I’m a lesbian earlier.”

“That isn’t really an option. I know Bellamy and he barely knows you, so it would not go down well at all to find out you’re dating his little sister. Like, when I was eighteen, he strung up one of his own friends because we made out one time.” Octavia argued.

“Then I guess this is it.” Clarke was aware of her forehead scrunching as she tried to process the disappointment she felt. Silence reigned in the staircase until Octavia bit her bottom lip.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be? We could give it some time and if we’re still together in a month or two, we could pretend we want to start dating. That way you and Bell might actually be friends by then. It’s just…” She broke off, sliding a frustrated hand through her hair. “I’m kind of used to hiding things from him. We love each other, we do, but we can get at such loggerheads sometimes. And I don’t want to stop seeing you.”

The last is almost a whisper, and it feels the most honest—a naked declaration. And Clarke’s common sense crumbles. Meeting someone new, feeling the first stirrings of that heady cocktail of emotions that came with the possibilities, she missed that.

“Alright. We’ll have to be careful, but I think you’re worth it, too.” Clarke reached out and slid her hand into Octavia’s own, relishing the warm, soft weight and brushing her thumb over the finely shaped knuckles. The smile they shared made her feel a little bit better, for now.

 

 

 

 

It’s early September and Clarke has a project due in two days when she finally meets the famous Raven Reyes that Finn seemed to mention in every other conversation as if she were an invisible presence in the room. The door had been partially ajar and Clarke registered the knock but didn’t look up for a moment, intent on finishing the careful shading she had been doing with her colored pencils.

“Oh, hi!” She said, finally, blinking owlishly up at the brunette standing in hers and Bellamy’s room with her fists stuffed awkwardly in her jacket pockets. Raven jerked her chin in greeting.  “I’m Raven.”

“Yes,” Clarke shook her head as if that should’ve been obvious to her. “You’re Finn’s better half… he talks about you all the time.” Clarke still wasn’t sure if the two were just really close best friends, or something more, or what. She’d been dividing her social life between Octavia, the guys, and a few meetups with some students from her classes. And then there was the time where she coexisted with Bellamy in their room.

That got a snort from Raven. “Of course he does, I’m awesome.”

Clarke had to laugh at that and she removed her glasses, setting them aside along with her sketch pad as she gave Raven her full attention.

“I thought it was about time I dropped by and met you.” She was staring at the other side of Clarke’s room in barely disguised fascination. Understanding lit up Clarke’s face.

“You mean you want to meet the unlucky bastard that had to room with Bellamy Blake.”

Raven didn’t look the least bit chagrined. “Guilty as charged. Tell me, does he really turn into a troll at sundown?”

“No. But he does come close in the mornings before he’s had coffee and a shower.” That retort seems to impress Raven.

“Nice. Let’s be friends.”

And once again, Clarke’s surprised how easy it really was. Raven put on a tough front, but Clarke quickly saw that break down to show the sweetness that did linger underneath. They started talking about their classes— Raven was doing a master’s in mechanical engineering and she had no problem stating that she was clearly the smartest student in the program.  Then they lit upon a topic that they had in common: an appreciation for motorcycles.

Clarke was in the middle of describing the old bike her dad had been fixing up when she was little, when the doorknob turned and in came Bellamy. Raven had been leaning against the closet door as he strolled inside.

“Boo!” She barked out, laughing gleefully at the reaction she got.

Bellamy seemed to jump a mile in his shoes and the turned to glare at her before reaching down to pick up his bookbag. “Cute. What do you want, Reyes?”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Blake. I just came to chat with Clarke.” Raven sneered  at him before pushing off from the door and making to leave. Her expression became more pleasant as she waved at Clarke.

“I’ll text you sometime and we can get away from these losers, okay?”

“Sounds perfect!” Clarke bid her goodbye, ignoring the small tantrum Bellamy was throwing as he scowled and threw his bookbag onto the bed with a muted thud.

“Good afternoon, Bellamy. I trust you had a good day?”

He didn’t answer her and Clarke simply picked up her pad and pencils once more and got back to work.  If there was the tiniest glimmer of guilt, sitting there feet away from Bellamy while wondering what his sister was up to…she quashed it like a bug.

 

 

 

Clarke found herself really enjoying the work she was doing at Grounder’s. Her boss, Lincoln, was a fairly laidback guy, and he didn’t feel the need to supervise her sessions for more than a few days before he let her work on her own. Clarke had way too many requests for things like ‘ _a Picasso-esque Rudolph_ ’ and the impressively horrifying ‘ _Mrs Claus, but pinup-style ya know_?’  But enough customers wanted something more creative or unique. 

If she ever wrote her memoirs, this town was going to give her so much fodder.  It may have been more luck that she’d ended up acquiring that particular skill—thanks to the proprietor of her last job, Indra, who had taken one look at the stuff Clarke was absentmindedly sketching in the park and took her on as an apprentice—but she loved tattooing. There was just something about this permanent form of art that calmed her. She was marking people in a way that really would last.

“Do you have any tattoos? I mean, people in your line of work usually do, don’t they?” Octavia asked her one evening, when they were lying on Octavia’s bed facing each other, just spending some time together before the start of a busy week.  They’d been on several dates over the past three weeks and things were slowly beginning to heat up between them. This close to her, Clarke’s knees were bumping against Octavia’s own, and if she extended her hand but a few inches, she’d be touching Octavia’s hip. The nearness, the sense of anticipation of maybe moving to the next level, was creating a pulling sensation behind her navel.

“Yes they do, and yes I do.”

Octavia’s eyes roved down her body, clearly wondering where those tattoos were. “Well, can I see them?”

 _Oh god_ , Clarke prayed to herself, feeling like she might combust at any moment. “Sure. I just have to get some of these clothes out of the way first. She wriggled until she could pull her t-shirt up past her ribs, partially exposing her simple white cotton bra to Octavia’s gaze. The material did nothing to keep her nipples from showing, and it was blatantly obvious that she was turned on by the situation.

“It’s on my upper back,” Clarke told her, rolling over onto her stomach. Octavia took the hem of the shirt and pushed it up the rest of the way.

“Oh, wow. That’s amazing. Wait, is that Buffy the Vampire Slayer?” Octavia sounded really impressed as she traced a finger over the lines.

“Yeah. It was my way of reminding myself I could be brave, I could be strong. After my dad died, I kind of slipped into a depression and it was like being in a dark wood day after day. I started rewatching the show and I thought if I could just channel Buffy, I could find my way out of this. I drew it, but Anya did the tat for me.”

“Anya…you and she were together, weren’t you?”

There was barely a twinge when she thought of her ex-girlfriend. “Yeah. I mean, looking back it was more a convenience thing, but I suppose for me it was a welcome one. The days just kind of disappeared into each other and having someone to eat with and have sex with kind of broke up the monotony of my routine. It didn’t even hurt that much when she told me she wanted to get back together with her ex…Lexa.”

 “I’m sorry.” Octavia’s hands were soft as they rubbed her arm comfortingly. Clarke shook her head.

“It’s okay. I think I ended up in a better place, so. What about you?”

“Our dads were never really in the picture so it was pretty much down to mom to work to support us. Bellamy looked after me a lot and he did his best to make sure I kept up with school and stayed out of trouble…”

“No easy task, I’m getting the impression…”

“Shut up,” Octavia poked her, a smile undercutting the scold. “But he decided to work first, to save up money and that’s why he didn’t go to college when he was eighteen. I love him, I really do. It’s just that I kind of got used to not telling him certain things because I didn’t want him to freak out or worry. And when I knew I liked girls too, I thought it d be a nice way to actually have the freedom to explore and date if he just thought I was hanging out with a friend. And then I just didn’t know how to stop hiding things from him.”

Well, that explained a few things about why Bellamy was the way he was, Clarke mused as she fiddled with the hem of Octavia’s shirt.   “I really want to kiss you,” she admitted

“I really want you to,” Octavia breathed.

Clarke tilted her head and brushed their lips along one other, sending electric tingles racing through the sensitive flesh.  The kiss continued, chaste and exploring, as Clarke scooted closer. The press of another set of breasts against her own had her deepening the kiss, sliding her tongue along the seam of Octavia’s mouth.

She was so, so gone.

In retrospect, Clarke was glad this was how they had their first kiss. Just having that honesty between them, in spite of the clandestine nature of their relationship, helped give Clarke that sense of an anchor.

 

 

 

Having a guy as a roommate wasn’t too weird, Clarke found. She didn’t turn around when she heard him get up in the mornings and change out of his pajamas, and he did the same for her. They both did a fair job of keeping their living space clean. Bellamy tended to be up later than her, usually working on a paper or trying to gut a book before class the next day, but he was quiet about it, keeping only his desk lamp on and using his earphones to listen to music while Clarke slept.

She started feeling the cramps before lunch one day and decided to skip her afternoon class in favor of curling up under her covers and downing enough Midol to knock out an elephant. The throbbing in her uterus had faded to ‘not quite murder’ when the door clicked open and Bellamy returned from his own classes. She heard the rustle of paper the squeak of plastic on Styrofoam and deduced that her roommate had stopped and gotten lunch to go from the deli line.

Peeking out from under her bright pink covers (Bellamy had eyed the flamboyant color, but decided against saying a word about her preferred choice for her own bed), Clarke squinted at him as he methodically unwrapped his food, plaid shirtsleeves rolled up around his forearms.

“Hey.”

In retrospect, she probably should’ve waited until he wasn’t in the middle of slathering mustard all over one slice of bread before opening her mouth. Bellamy shouted and both the knife and bread went flying into the air, hitting the desk with a splat.

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Clarke!” Bellamy closed his eyes and clenched his fists before his face, then finally looked over at the lump on his roommate’s bed.

“Sorry.” Her voice was muffled by the comforter, and she knew she was being cowardly, hiding like this. “I didn’t realize you hadn’t seen me here.”

He was doing his level best not to bite her head off, she could tell. “I wasn’t expecting you. Don’t you usually have a class now?”

“I felt like crap, so I’m skipping.”

Bellamy became more alert, pausing in the process of wiping his desk free of bright yellow mustard. “It’s not the flu is it? I have a big test in two days and if you give it to me, I swear I will kill you and hide your body.”

“Har har.” Clarke didn’t take his threat seriously. Bellamy was 80% hot air, most of the time. She contemplated lying, but decided to just bite the bullet and be honest. This wasn’t middle school, after all. “No, I’m just having worse cramps than usual. Nothing you can catch.”

Bellamy actually brightened at that, giving her a boyish grin that softened his usual demeanor. “Oh, that’s all?”

“Screw you.” With that, Clarke yanked the covers back over her head and ignored his snickering in favor of breathing deeply through the next wave of agony.

Some time later, Clarke wasn’t sure how long—she might have drifted off to sleep once or twice, lulled by the sound of keyboards clacking or the soft footfalls around the room. But it wasn’t until the door opened and closed and Clarke heard Bellamy murmur near her that she awoke.

“Hey, Clarke? Clarke I brought something that’ll help.”

The covers were pulled off her and she groaned at the cooler air on her body. And then Bellamy was pressing something against her lower stomach and she batted ineffectually at him before she realized it was a heating pad. “My sister Octavia lives near here, she said I could give this to you. It works wonders for her cramps, so.” He nodded awkwardly and stood there for a minute, hands on his hips, before heading back to his desk.

Clarke nearly moaned out loud at the relief that came from the tendrils of heat as they emanated through her abdomen.  She would have to give Octavia a very thorough kiss the next time she saw her—with tongue— for this gift. But Clarke knew it didn’t just come from the girl she was dating, it came from her roommate…her sort of friend. Which did make her feel like an awful person.

“Hey, Bellamy? Thanks.”

“No problem. Just don’t let it go to your head.”

“Aaaand there’s the Bellamy we know,” Clarke deadpanned, closing her eyes and flipping the covers back over her head. She’d take the little progress they just made.

 

 

 

She went to a house party with Octavia one Friday night, when the weather had turned noticeably crisper. The boys would have had her along for their night out. But seeing as their ‘night out’ involved cheap beer and first person shooter games at someone named Sterling’s apartment…Clarke elected to pass.

Octavia wore this hot pink miniskirt. Clarke had hopped her way into a form-fitting pair of jeans with a black tank top tucked into them. It was low-cut enough to show off the lace that hugged her breasts and she definitely noticed Octavia noticing them.  Which was entirely the point. They went to a house party where there was still lukewarm, cheap beer, but there’s also vodka pong and they wiped the floor with three teams before deciding a fourth game would be too obnoxious. Clarke’s a giggly drunk when she’s surrounded by people (when she drinks alone she’s a mopey drunk).  Octavia just gets more carefree and handsy. 

Which was how they ended up outside with Clarke’s back against the side of the house and Octavia pressed along her front. Octavia was all teeth on her lips, on her neck, and she’s making a pretty good case—rolling her hips into the cradle of Clarke’s thighs—for mutual orgasms. For her part, Clarke’s got her hands up underneath that miniskirt and…oh god, Octavia’s wearing a thong. Clarke was strongly contemplating flipping them around and sliding her hand into that thong so she could finger Octavia until she was falling apart against her body. But that was when some drunk asshole stumbled on them and slurred, “don’t get a room on my account, ladies!” So they decided to head back to Octavia’s room to continue what they’d started.

“Is…ah…Maya gone for the night?” Clarke groaned as she was knocked into the back of Octavia’s door. Her jeans were already unzipped and Octavia had wormed one hand into her panties, cupping her where she was already wet. “Oh god, _yes_.”

“She’s at her parents’ until the morning,” Octavia said, nipping at the skin along Clarke’s jawline. She kept rocking her hips, riding Octavia’s palm until there were two fingers sliding up into her.  Given the tightness of her jeans, there wasn’t much room for maneuverability, which only made it hotter.

“Oh, good oh _don’t stop_.”

She didn’t care about getting completely naked right that moment or having a slow buildup on the bed. Clarke moaned and canted her pelvis harder, faster. The pleasure was raw and it was _right there_. Octavia was holding her against the door as she worked Clarke into a frenzy. Then she did this twisty thing with her wrist that drew a shocked exclaim from Clarke’s lips.

Then again.

Then again, and Clarke could only press her forehead against Octavia’s and clutch at her shoulders as her thighs shook and the release rippled throughout her body.  Octavia looked utterly triumphant as she slowly slid her hand out of Clarke’s jeans.

Her panties were cold and sticky against her as she pinned Octavia with a covetous stare. “It’s your turn now,” she told the other woman lowly. Clarke stepped away from the door and began to nudge Octavia backwards towards her bed. In the dim glare from the sole desk lamp left on, Clarke could see the naked desire on Octavia’s face as her eyelashes fluttered.

Clarke wasn’t sure what came over her then. Maybe being around Octavia made her bolder.  “Do you know what? I’m going to make you come twice around my tongue.” Octavia drew in a sharp breath.  “But first you’re going to need to take off all of your clothes for me. Can you do that?”

A fast nod. Then Octavia was reaching behind her body to unzip her miniskirt and she let it pool around her feet, still encased in those heeled booties. Her black thong barely covered her mound and Clarke made sure to look her fill as Octavia pulled her top over her head and reached for the hooks to her bra.

Octavia stood there, completely naked, having toed off her shoes. She tilted her chin up at Clarke, defiant in the face of her vulnerability. Clarke restrained herself from reaching out to touch her. “You’re beautiful. Why don’t you lie down on the bed and get ready for me.”

“Oh, jesus.” Clarke could hear Octavia mutter as she crawled backwards onto the bed and finally, after a moment’s deliberation, parted her legs until they were resting against the covers. Waiting for Clarke to fill that space.  Clarke began to wriggle out of her jeans, yanking her dark purple panties—ruined as they were—down her thighs. Her tank top went next, along with the black lace bra. 

“Have I told you your tits are amazing?” Octavia asked, watching her with one hand teasing along the lips of her vulva. Clarke only smirked. Then she placed one knee on the mattress and crawled into the space between Octavia’s knees.

Both her hands lightly squeezed Octavia’s calves before sliding ever so slowly upwards over very toned muscles that were trembling.  She was wet, Clarke could make that out very clearly even in the dim. She wanted to taste that, to feel flesh twitching against her mouth and hear Octavia lose control.  But not yet, she reminded herself.  First, she was going to bend over and give Octavia a nice eyeful before she closed her mouth over a taut nipple.

“Hurry up, Clarke. I swear I’m going to explode if you don’t make me come soon!” Octavia burst out, minutes later, arching her body in frustration. Clarke lifted her head from one tortured nipple and calmly looked at Octavia’s pleading expression.

“You’re going to have to beg me to give it to you, first.”

 

 

 

“Well, don’t you look like the cat that got the canary?” Bellamy intoned smoothly, wriggling his eyebrows at the rather mussed up state she was in.

 _Yeah, because I totally just went down on your sister and she nearly ripped my hair out of my head,_ Clarke wisely did not say. What she did do instead, was grab her pajamas out of her closet and shrug.

“Yeah I kind of got lucky tonight.”

“I’ll say…you already have a couple of impressive hickeys there.” He had a shit-eating grin as he pointed in the general direction of her neck and Clarke self-consciously rubbed her hand over the bruise. She really didn’t want to discuss Octavia’s penchant for biting with her own brother.

The sound of springs squeaking alerted her to Bellamy flipping over onto his stomach, effectively turning his back to her so she could change there in peace instead of going to the women’s bathroom on the other side of the common room.

“So what did you do tonight?” She asked lightly, changing the subject.

“Not much. Played COD with Finn in Miller and Wells’ room. Monty was out with some of his friends.”

“Look at you, Bellamy Blake. Making friends. I feel like a proud mama duck.” She patronized him, smiling widely at the black look he gave her over his shoulder.

“I do just fine making friends.” He sounded so petulant, Clarke took pity on him.  Makeup all wiped off and thick socks firmly on her feet, she curled up under her covers and turned off her bedside lamp. Maybe it was the faint remnants of alcohol in her system, but Clarke couldn’t restrain her curiosity any longer.

“Why were they weird with you at the start of the semester? I got the feeling something happened last year.” In the dark room, Bellamy sighed.

“I kind of had a chip on my shoulder when I started here last year. Being older than them all. To fit in, I tried to be one of those cocky assholes. This guy I made the mistake of being ‘friends’ with…” Clarke could just hear the air-quotes in the emphasis.

“Well, he really had it in for Wells. Finn nearly got kicked out because he stood up to Murphy. I was so worried that if I came clean, I’d lose my scholarship. But Octavia told me point-blank I was turning into someone she didn’t even want to recognize and I guess that did it for me.  Murphy got kicked out and I avoided those guys this year because I figured they wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

Clarke was quiet for a minute. “Sometimes people do deserve second chances, though.”

“Yeah.”

Her stomach clenched uncomfortably.  She was still coasting on the euphoria of sex hormones, still wanting to giggle at the near absurdity of the thought that she’d just had great sex with Octavia. And then she came home and broke down a wall between her and Bellamy. The friendlier they became, the harder it was to justify the subterfuge.  Not wanting to deal with this, Clarke rolled over and shut her eyes tightly.

 

 

 

October brought on the brilliant flush of autumn in the treetops around Christmas. With it came a peculiar fog that didn’t dissipate until eleven o’clock most days, which would have made the town look ethereal if it weren’t for the increased presence of the Weathermen patrolling down the cobblestone streets. Mayor Wallace was in the newspapers warning of gang activity and trotting out his re-election platform that centered on something called CRBS that would make the town safer. Clarke tried to just focus on her upcoming midterms and keeping the two halves of her life separate.

Midterms meant more students wanting to blow off steam, which led to more tattoos and more money. Even a few of her friends had dropped by the studio wanting something done. Lincoln had tattooed a self-portrait of Monty on his left shoulder. “Just think how cool this will look when I’m an old man,” he had explained to Clarke afterwards, while Lincoln was wrapping the tattoo up and trying not to laugh.

Bellamy had started dating a woman from the geology department named Roma, who had the long and lean body of a dancer. Roma was nice and polite with Clarke, but they didn’t actually interact that much. Octavia, on the other hand, didn’t much care for her brother’s new…girlfriend or whatever they were.  Clarke had only been sexiled twice in the four weeks they had been dating. She used the opportunity to spend time with Octavia, and then Raven.

Bellamy had even begun hanging out with Clarke and the other guys from their floor. Sometimes they had game nights where they had chess matches. Except, Bellamy turned out to be pretty terrible at the long-term strategy the game demanded and, not wanting to drive him away, Finn and Monty started changing things up and they’d play games like Risk or, when they were drunk and maybe also high, Uno.  Raven forced them all to play poker this one time, but it had turned out to be a disaster because Clarke wasn’t very good at bluffing and Monty kept trying to hide cards up his shirtsleeves like he’d seen in the movies.

Trying to get Miller, Raven, and Monty to behave during Jenga was an exercise in futility, too.

Even Wells was becoming more polite towards Bellamy, and Clarke began to feel like she was carrying an albatross around her neck. Things couldn’t continue on as they were, especially not the more she got to know Octavia. They were hardly teenagers anymore and while the whole ‘dating and having sex’ thing was great, Clarke was also beginning to have deeper feelings.

Octavia could be so stubborn and defiant, and she pretty much wore herself on her sleeve. There was no guile with her, their clandestine relationship notwithstanding. Clarke adored the devious smirk that could light up Octavia’s face, the way she would jiggle her right leg when impatient, and her carefree spontaneity. One Saturday morning, she’d been woken up by Octavia while Bellamy was away at work, and dragged off to the annual Christmas Chili Cookoff.

God they’d eaten so much chili that day, but Clarke remembered how much she had laughed, how much she had argued about which sample was better, and the way Octavia had given her a peculiar little smile—vulnerable—when Clarke had swiped her thumb over a smudge on Octavia’s chin.

She really liked Octavia. A lot. That was why Clarke didn’t think she could risk harming Octavia’s relationship with her brother any longer.

It was a rainy and despondent day when Clarke broached the topic with her. She had come to Vixen to return Octavia’s heating pad after borrowing it the other week. Octavia’s face was looking drawn as she pressed the pad to her abdomen, lying on her side with Clarke curled up against her back. Clarke was so sure Octavia would be able to detect her anxiety from the way her heart was pounding against her ribcage.

“O, I can’t do this anymore.” She finally announced, deciding to bite the bullet.

“Do what?” Octavia sighed.

“Lie like this. Your brother isn’t just my roommate, he’s pretty much my friend now, and if he finds out…I can’t do this to you two. I think we should tell him. Be honest about this.” Clarke said in a rush, her breath puffing against Octavia’s hair.

“No.” She shook her head, a mutinous clench to her jaw.

“Octavia—“

“Clarke, I just can’t! Okay?” And then Octavia sprang to her feet, breathing harshly. It’s the sheer refusal in her eyes that breaks Clarke’s heart. She can’t exactly fault Octavia for being worried about her brother’s reaction. But she also knows with a certainty now that they’ve reached an impasse…one that Clarke doesn’t feel she can relent on.

There’s a metallic taste in her mouth and her chest is tight as she slowly pushes herself off the bed. She doesn’t even need to say anything because Octavia sees it on her face.

“I hope it’s easier from now on,” she says. That was harsh and unfair of her, and even Octavia knew it, but she’s too busy looking away and trying not to cry. Clarke just nodded dumbly and grabbed her coat and bag, giving her one last look before leaving.

Octavia didn’t even turn around.

It doesn’t hit Clarke until she’s outside in the rain, having forgotten her umbrella in Octavia’s room. She’s grateful for the water on her face because it makes her less aware of the hot, salty trail of tears. She’s taking shuddering breaths as she exits the elevator in her building and walking down the hallway towards her room.

 

 

 

Clarke forgot one other thing: she had told Bellamy she was planning on staying at her girlfriend’s tonight. Which was why it was something of a nasty surprise when she opened the door, only to get an eyeful of Roma’s naked body as she bounced on top of Bellamy. Who, as far as Clarke could see, was also buck naked.

“AH!” She shrieked, spinning around and closing the door in shock.

She just stood there in the darkened hallway, wondering what the fuck to do and whether there was enough alcohol in the world to drown not just her broken heart but the sight that was probably seared onto her retinas for all eternity.

“The hell, Clarke? Rule #2?” Bellamy bit out as he yanked the door open, nothing but a towel clutched around his waist. Then he caught sight of Clarke’s face. “Uh, you okay?”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your night. Um, she and I had an argument and I’m pretty sure we just broke up.” Just saying the words threatened to make the waterworks start again.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I can tell Roma—“

“No, no. I can stay with one of the guys tonight. I just need some dry clothes.”

“Yeah, sure. One sec,” Bellamy ducked back into the room and she heard voices for a moment before the door opened and he jerked his head to indicate the coast was clear.

Clarke waved politely in Roma’s direction, noting gratefully that the other woman had covered up for the moment. “Hey, sorry about this. I’ll be out of your hair soon.” She told Roma, who shrugged carelessly. Clarke wasn’t sure if that was a slight on Bellamy’s skills that Roma didn’t seem phased by the interruption. Grabbing her pajamas and some dry underwear, plus some toiletries, Clarke gave Bellamy a grateful nod before exiting the room.

“Oh, and Clarke?” She turned back to look at Bellamy. “Go to Monty and Finn’s first. Between the two of them, I’m pretty sure they’ll have you covered in the alcohol and pot department.”

Realization dawned on her. “Gotcha. Have good sex.” She left him with a thumbs-up.

 

 _Taptaptap_.

 _Taptaptap_.

 

When the door swung open, Clarke was pretty sure she looked abjectly pitiful. Monty certainly took one look at her and then called back over his shoulder, “Finn, we’re gonna need the vodka!”

That was how she found herself, one hour later, sandwiched between Finn and Monty on their futon while they sipped straight vodka out of red solo cups and watched _The Winter Soldier_.  Finn loved the movie because it was one of ‘the best subversive critiques of the American military-industrial complex’. Monty had just elbowed her and winked. “Also he has a thing for Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff.” And then Finn had come up with the best drinking game _ever_ , where they took a shot every time Steve and Sam flirted with each other.

She was pretty drunk by now.

“It’s all my fault,” she hiccupped, pouting into Finn’s shoulder. The alcohol was disconnecting her control over her body, making her head sway. It also made her pretty philosophical about her life.

“There, there. I’m sure you’re not entirely to blame.” Finn reached up and patted her hair comfortingly. Clarke straightened up and held her cup out for Monty to refill. 

“I knew there was a really, really, really…really…good chance we might end up at an imp- impasse, but what did I do?” It was getting harder to form words properly.

“Your head said ‘Clarke no’ but your heart said ‘Clarke yes’.” Monty interjected.

“Exactly!” Explosions sounded on the t.v. and Clarke was momentarily distracted from the trainwreck that was her love life.  “I wonder if Roma would give me the number for her bikini waxer.”

That sent Finn and Monty into peals of laughter. “What? She had some pretty impressive landscaping going on down there.” Clarke insisted with all the gravitas of someone who was definitely not going to remember this in the morning.

When the guys decided to go to bed at two a.m., they pulled out the futon and tossed Clarke an extra blanket and pillow from their beds. With the lights out, Clarke felt her sadness more acutely, but she was too numb to cry. “Thanks you guys,” she slurred.

There was a rustling from both beds. “Anytime,” Finn murmured. Monty was already out like a light. And then so was she.

 

 

Midterms came and went and Clarke kept her head down and soldiered on, doggedly determined not to slip back into the state she had been in one year ago.  She hung out in the library with Wells and Miller just for the sake of getting out of her room. She had breakfasts with Finn and Raven on their crusade to rank all the breakfast joints in Christmas. She even sat through one or two historical documentaries with Bellamy while they munched on pizza.  But she hadn’t been herself and on some level Clarke was aware of that. She just wasn’t aware of how much her friends had noticed, until they decided drastic action was in order.

At dinner in the cafeteria, Clarke had been half-heartedly poking at her stir-fry when Wells, evidently having had been elected speaker, cleared his throat.

“Clarke, it’s Friday night,” he stated, as if it weren’t patently obvious.

“Hm?”

There were encouraging glances from the other guys.  Wells had forged on. “Maybe we should go out and have some fun?”

“That’s alright, you guys go without me.”

And then Bellamy practically threw his fork down onto his plate in irritation. “For fuck’s sake, Clarke. You’ve been moping over _her_ for the past week and half. It’s painful for us to watch. This is an intervention.”

“It can’t hurt to just have a nice night out, you know?” Finn prodded her, trying to soften the harshness of Bellamy’s words.

And then Monty interjected: “The best way to get over someone is to get under someone new. Or on top of someone new, whichever your preference is. We don’t judge.”

Miller groaned and adjusted his beanie as if the act would give him fortitude. “ _For fuck’s sake_.”

_Three hours later_ :

 

“So…this is what a lesbian bar looks like.” Monty murmured a little bit confusedly as he squinted at their surroundings. Miller froze with his pint of beer halfway to his lips and stared at his friend.

“What were you expecting, a lot of plaid and Melissa Etheridge playing?“

Clarke tried not to beam too much at her friends while they squabbled about stereotypes. They really did look out of place, especially since they were essentially the only men in Cindy Lou’s. Not the only penis-owners, possibly, but definitely the only men there.  Their table was getting a bunch of odd looks, but none of them seemed to give a damn. They were here for Clarke, as her _wingmen_.

Clarke was nearly finished with her first glass of wine, eyes wide open as Finn regaled them with the revelation that Monty had been dating a dominatrix. Monty only stretched his arms along the back of the booth and grinned smugly. Some of the guys had ordered fruity frou frou drinks with umbrellas because they felt like them. Raven had shown up fifteen minutes ago wearing a tight red dress with a fitted jacket over it, all made up and ready to slay. She ordered a fireball whiskey, downed the first as soon as the waitress handed it to her, and then demanded another.

The amused looks Finn was sending his best friend told Clarke something was up. But she didn’t give it more thought when Wells piped up over the Nu!Metal song that was playing. “What about her?” He pointed in the direction of a table near the dance floor. “Kinda blondish hair, black top and jeans.”

Clarke studied her and gave a ‘not bad’ nod. They’d already grilled her on what she found attractive in women and concluded that she kind of had a type: tomboyish and with the potential for great abs. Clarke had to be very careful not to give any revealing details about Octavia while Bellamy was at the table. Just thinking about Octavia’s abs, and that one time she’d licked chocolate syrup off them, was going to make her tear up again.

Truthfully, she didn’t feel eager to walk over there and flirt. But her friends were right: she needed to move out of the funk she had been in lately. “I could go there,” she admitted.

“Don’t think of it as a replacement relationship. You’re just going to meet someone new and maybe get a dance and some conversation,” Finn reassured her. Buoyed, Clarke started to shuffle out of the booth.

“You’re right. I’m going to get another glass of wine and go talk to her.”

“Hear, hear!” Miller toasted her with his drink.

“Yes, let us see Clarke Griffin in action, grr!”  Monty pantomimed a tiger growl and she was shaking her head as she left the booth. After a detour to refill her drink, she squared her shoulders as she approached the table the woman was standing at.

“Hey, I saw you from where I was sitting and wondered if you wanted me to flirt with you!” Clarke shouted over the music as she rested her elbow on the table, aware that the action did nice things for her cleavage. It’d been embarrassing earlier when Finn had, on Raven’s orders, come into her room and started rifling through her closet for something  that declared ‘do me’. Clarke had just stared at him in shock as he carried on a conversation, holding his phone up in front of her closet while Raven peered at the clothes on Facetime, telling Finn what to pull out and what to ignore.

The woman Wells had pointed out was about two inches shorter than Clarke and she seemed welcoming enough of Clarke’s come-on line. “Sure!” she shouted back, angling her body to mirror Clarke’s.  “I’m Monroe.”

“Clarke.” She stuck her hand out for Monroe to shake.  The fact that it was a firm pump made her feel sad for a moment but she forced herself to focus on having fun. The brief conversation she had with Monroe covered some basics: yes Monroe had come with some friends, no she was single, yes Clarke had come with the guys sitting in the booth over there, and yes she was very much in the mood to hit the dance floor.

Honestly. Clarke wasn’t feeling a spark with Monroe, but she was having plenty fun dancing with the woman even if they didn’t get close enough for any grinding action. She’d been carrying around the weight of guilt and sorrow on top of the usual stresses of everyday life, and for the first time since breaking up with Octavia, Clarke let herself smile and be silly. Finally, she bid Monroe goodbye, thanking her for the dances, and headed over to where she had left her friends.  And boy, were they absolutely hammered—a drinking game had broken out while she was gone.

“The prodigal friend has returned!” Monty boomed, holding his arms out. Applause broke out and Clarke was tipsy enough to make a little curtsy.

“Do I need to sleep across the hall tonight?” Bellamy asked with a little smirk.  Raven leaned over with an expectant look.

“Nah, we didn’t click like that.”  A chorus of groans met that statement. “It’s okay, really! We exchanged numbers so we can hang out sometime.”

“So the night wasn’t a complete wash?” Miller asked.  Clarke shook her head. “Nope. You guys were right; I needed to get out of my funk. This was honestly the best night I’ve had in a while.”

“Amen to that,” Finn said, pulling on his jacket while the others started sliding out of the booth. Soon enough, they were all making the trek home, doing their level best to ignore the Weathermen posted every other block, watching them pass by with unreadable eyes. Raven seemed the most disappointed that things hadn’t worked out for Clarke, so she made sure to walk next to Raven while the rest of their friends talked loudly about some football team or another.

“Hey.” Clarke nudged Raven with her shoulder. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s supposed to look glum, not you.”

That got a smile on Raven’s face. “Nah, as long as you got something out of tonight, I’m happy.”

“Are you coming back with us, then?” Clarke asked, realizing that Raven had missed her turn-off.

“Yeah, I think I’ll crash on the futon tonight.”

“Well, there you go! It’s a good thing I didn’t need the room tonight, or you would’ve had to share the futon with Bellamy. So it all worked out.” She beamed at Raven, who gave her a little laugh in return.

“Could’ve been worse.”

 

 

 

Around the time Clarke had broken up with Octavia, she had gotten a weird call from her mom. “Clarke, if you ever need to go to a doctor, I need you to only come to me. Please call me back and promise me you won’t go anywhere else. I’m begging you to trust me on this.” The ominous tone had concerned her, but her schedule had gotten busy so she hadn’t dropped by to ask her mom what was going on. After midterms, Clarke decided to take the time to walk across town to her mom’s house. Dark brown leaves were scattered across the porch as she stepped up to the door and used her key to get inside—  

“Holy Shit!” Clarke clapped her hand over her mouth and made a complete 180, practically flying down the front steps. The front door opened and closed behind her.

“ _Clarke_! Clarke, wait!”

Clarke spun around and tried not to stare at her mother, whose hair was half undone and whose blouse was untucked from her skirt and only partially buttoned back up. Abby looked downright panicked.

“Clarke, I can explain!” She panted heavily and Clarke tried not to notice how swollen her mother’s lips looked. “I’ve been thinking about trying to date again for a while…I wanted to talk to you about it first, but—“ Clarke waved her hands frantically in front of her body, trying to get Abby to shut up.

“It’s not that. Really, I understand you wanting to get back out there. I’m just a little bit shocked to walk through the door and see my mom being _humped_ by her former intern. _That’s_ the weird part. Nobody wants to think about their parents being like that, you know.” Abby winced and tried to smooth her hair down.

“I really am sorry you walked in on that. I wasn’t expecting you…but I really do want to talk to you about some things I’ve found out.”

Clarke jerked her chin in agreement. “I didn’t let you know I was coming, next time I’ll give you a lot of warning. Definitely. How about we pick this up again next Sunday? I’ll come by for dinner.”

“Okay, that works.  I guess I’ll go back and…” Abby waved her hand in the direction of the house. _Oh god, my mom is going to go back and get laid_.

“Yeah. I’ll call you later.” Clarke grimaced and started to back away down the sidewalk. “Oh, and mom?”

“Hm?”

“Way to go!” She pumped her fist in the air and gave her mother a silly-proud look.  Abby burst out in laughter and pressed her hands to her pink cheeks, embarrassed. They parted ways and Clarke couldn’t help laughing hysterically the entire way across town to the dorms.

 

 

 

 

**_Hey can u come over? I need to talk to u._ **

 

The text came two days after Halloween and Clarke bit her lip as she debated whether to answer or not. Her phone vibrated again.

Clarke tapped out a reply, choosing some levity to let Octavia know she didn’t hate her.

 

**_Depends. Is this where you’re gonna tell me_ **

**_you’re pregnant with my kid?_ **

**_Lol no. I really owe u an explanation._ **

**_And I miss u a lot._ **

**_Enough to have changed my mind about things._ **

Clarke went.

Octavia answered the door after the first knock and it was weird seeing her after so long.  She wore a pair of skinny jeans and a sweater in a particular shade of robin’s egg blue that brought out her eyes.  Eyes that lit up when she saw Clarke.

“Hey,” Clarke said softly.

“Hey,” Octavia echoed her. “Come on in. Maya’s off bossing around her tool of a boyfriend so we can talk.”

It was tense as Clarke sat down on the office chair by Octavia’s desk while she took the bed, toying nervously with her sweater sleeves. “How have you been? Classes still going well?” A safe question to start with.

“Not too bad.” Clarke nodded. “I did well on my midterms and Professor Cantrell loved my illustrated project.”

“Good, I’m glad. I, uh, I really owe you an apology for shutting you down the way I did. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“I don’t want to force you to come out to your brother or get into a fight with him—,” Clarke shook her head.

“It wasn’t even that. I know Bell won’t reject me, he never would. I did a lot of soul searching and realized that it was really about me clinging to this warped compartmentalized life I’ve been leading for years. I’m not a kid anymore, I need to stop behaving like I am.” Octavia argued, her tone final.

Clarke scarcely dared to breathe.

“I want to tell him about me, about us over Thanksgiving break. If you even want there to be an ‘us’, that is.” Octavia said the last in a rush, trying not to look _too_ hopeful.  Heart pounding in her ribcage, Clarke thought she could burst with the wary sort of happiness she felt. Instead of words, she just pushed off from the chair and crossed the last few feet until she was cupping Octavia’s face with her hands and pressing her lips tightly to the ones beneath her.

Octavia’s breath left her lungs in a rush, puffing against Clarke’s skin as shock wore off and she began to participate. The angle changed and Clarke placed one knee, then the other, on the mattress, straddling Octavia’s thighs. It was a precarious perch, but Octavia’s arms around her lower back helped anchor her in place. Her lips were as soft as Clarke remembered and god, there were those teeth, always nipping at her bottom lip.

Finally, they parted with swollen lips and blown pupils. “Is that a yes?”

“I could say it again if you wanted.” Clarke panted, smirking a little. Octavia gave a happy little laugh before she kissed Clarke hard and their hands began to roam over each other’s body. Clarke found herself divested of her jacket, and dress in short order and then the band of her bra tightened for a second before going completely loose.

Clarke slid the straps down her arms and tossed the material in a random direction behind her. Octavia’s hands, when they cupped her breasts, had Clarke throwing her head back and moaning softly. She couldn’t stop herself from rocking her hips against Octavia’s lower belly.

Octavia was mumbling things, herself. “I missed you. God, I missed you.” The world spun as Clarke found herself flipped over onto her back.  And then Octavia was looming above her on the narrow bed, her dark hair falling in a curtain around her face. Her voice is completely serious when she says, “I think I could fall in love with you, Clarke Griffin.”

The revelation was like a sucker punch. And then Octavia was bending low to kiss her again, barely letting her lips linger before she skipped them downwards, along Clarke’s sternum and belly. Fingers curled under the band of Clarke’s black tights and started to pull the material down over her hips, taking Clarke’s panties with them. Once she had Clarke completely naked and trembling with anticipation, Octavia pressed her hands in between her knees and spread her thighs.

“Oh,” she moaned as Octavia’s tongue teased around the hood of her clitoris and all the blood in her body seemed to pool between her legs. Clarke combed her fingers through the soft, straight strands as they fell over her hips, abdomen already shaking from the exquisite pleasure beginning to build as she tensed and relaxed her limbs.  “I think I could fall in love with you, too.” She cooed, closing her eyes.

 

Afterwards, as sweat cooled on their bodies, Clarke got out her markers and began to draw on the skin that stretched over Octavia’s ribcage and stomach.  Bright blue butterflies began to fill the space with wild strokes that echoed Octavia’s own untamed nature. As she worked, Octavia told her things in the language she was inventing, plucking words and sounds out of the air. _Yu don breik ai au_.  Other times, she ran her fingers over Clarke’s brow and murmured a questioning ‘ _yumi_ ’, as if trying the concept out for the first time.

Clarke gave her a reassuring smile and dropped a gentle kiss to Octavia’s lower belly.

****

****

****

 “So…this is what a gay bar looks like.”

“Dude. Seriously?” Miller moaned while Finn broke out into a fit of laughter, slapping the table to punctuate his mirth. “What were you expecting, booty shorts and go-go dancers in cages?”

“Honestly? Yes.” Monty admitted, before taking a slurp of his Grinch Juice.  “But this is nice, too.” Jingle Balls was the sole gay bar in town, and in spite of the horrid name that would have better fit a strip club than a bar, it had a swanky but festive feel to it. And since it was two weeks before Thanksgiving, the red and green decorations weren’t quite so out of place to Clarke.

They were there for Miller, this time. He had mentioned being bi, but typically going for guys. So they were clustered around a tall table, having a mix of frozen slushy drinks and beer while Miller’s dark eyes roved casually over the other men in the wide open space.

They proceeded to get into an argument over which Hogwarts house they would have been sorted into. Clarke thought she was a great fit for Ravenclaw along with Wells and Raven but Bellamy had overruled her, insisting she’d be in Gryffindor. Everyone could agree that Finn was Hufflepuff, along with Miller who looked like he wanted to disagree for a moment but then he shrugged and accepted the label with a sip of his beer. He’d left the beanie at home tonight and was wearing a tight Henley. That, along with the beard he had been growing for the past few weeks, was getting him more than a few appreciative stares.

Another argument broke out when Monty pointed out that Bellamy would fit in best with Slytherin and Bellamy took exception to that. It was Finn who thankfully jumped in to reason things out. “He doesn’t mean that in a bad way, Bellamy..” That mollified him for the time being.

Everyone was shocked into silence, however, when a drink was sent to their table for Bellamy, from an admirer at the bar. His mouth went slack with surprise for a moment, but he accepted the drink, a behemoth called Bloody Klaus for its cherry red color, with a polite nod to the man.  Then, thankfully, Miller spotted his quarry.

“Him.” 

They all craned their necks to look. “Uh…I don’t…” Clarke squinted as she tried to figure out which man Miller was looking at.

“Which one…” echoed Wells and Monty.

“By the table near the restrooms,” Miller clarified. The guy had ‘freshman’ stamped all over him. He had messy brown hair that was in desperate need of a cut and his jeans and sweater looked absolutely ordinary. They were all silent as they tried to understand.

“Him?”

“Really?”

But Miller had a predatory look in his eye as he downed the rest of his beer in one go and began to move around the table. “He looks just freaky enough for me tonight.”

“Let me know if I need to crash on Finn and Monty’s futon tonight,” Wells reminded his roommate magnanimously.

“Yeah, I’ll text you.” And with a two-fingered salute, Miller was stalking across the bar towards the guy, who continued to try to stand near the wall and look suave. They stayed in the bar long enough for another drink and an argument over which Star Trek movie was the best before deciding to head back to their rooms. Miller had left with his ‘next mistake’, whose name seriously was Myles.

There was a definite chill in the air, pinking her cheeks as they walked along the darkened streets. Clarke felt light and happy, and not just from the alcohol. Bellamy seemed similarly jubilant and called her out on it. “You’re not as serious as usual, what gives?”

It’s almost on the tip of her tongue to say ‘ _your sister is like a drug I can’t quit’_ , but she keeps mum. “Uh, I kind of got back together with my ex.”

Bellamy groaned, hunching his shoulders over before he shook his head at her. “You’re a glutton for punishment. Why get back together if the situation that led to the breakup hasn’t changed?”

It was a stupid gamble, but Clarke stopped Bellamy with a hand to his arm and looked up at him with all seriousness in spite of the alcohol coursing through her system. “Because she’s really worth it, Bellamy.” Of course, he wouldn’t understand what she meant by that, telling her girlfriend’s oblivious brother the depth of her feelings.

Bellamy sighed and continued walking behind Wells, Finn, and Monty as they sang Taylor Swift songs off-key. “If you say so.”

 

 

 

Sunday dinner with her mom starts with Clarke finding out just what had been going on at the municipal government level while the rest of the town went about their business in the usual blissfully ignorant manner.

“Mom, you’re starting to scare me,” Clarke whispered.  Abby’s face crumpled and she flopped back onto the couch next to Clarke.

“And believe me, I hate to. It wasn’t like this when I came here, not until Mayor Jaha got ousted after being shot and forced to move out of town for physical rehabilitation.”

“And that was when Mayor Wallace took over and created the Weathermen?” Clarke asked, trying to put the pieces together.

“Yes. It was about seven months before you moved here. And then the disappearances started—I’m sure you’ve noticed how they conveniently are followed by an increase in security and a decrease in personal liberties.”

“Picked up on that a few times,” she told her mother dryly.  Abby reached for the unopened bottle of wine and uncorked it so she could pour herself a glass.

“He often spent time with another doctor in my hospital, MarissaTsing, and I noticed her spending more time than she ought to be down in the morgue. So I started sneaking down there during my night shifts, poking around a bit.” Now, that made Clarke increasingly alarmed.

“What did you find?”

“Clarke,” Abby sighed, looking more haggard than she’d seen her in a long time. “I found the people who went missing. Their organs had been harvested.”

Clarke reached for the bottle of wine herself. “So what, the Mayor is colluding with people in the town to increase his control and also benefit financially from it?”

“Looks that way.”

“Shit. And because you’ve been snooping…”

“They might go after me if they suspect I know. And they might go after you to get to me. That’s why I wanted you to be careful. I don’t know who to trust at the hospital. I don’t think many are in on it; it makes sense to limit insider knowledge, less chance of leaks that way. But I’ve been working with Lt. Kane, from the fire engine, he’s on the City Council and he’s noticed the change in the kinds of laws Wallace has been pushing through.”

Both women lapsed into a troubled silence as Clarke digested the revelation.  The doorbell rang as their pizza delivery arrived and with that, a change in topic.

“What’s her name?”

“What’s whose name?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, honey. You couldn’t stop smiling earlier, which usually means there’s a girl involved.” Abby took another bite of her pizza and watched her daughter with an expectant look. 

Clarke toyed with her slice before deciding to tell someone. “Her name is Octavia.”

“That’s a start. I take it she’s a student at MWC, too?”

“Yeah. Linguistics.” Something must have shown on Clarke’s face because Abby put her plate down.

“But…what?”

Clarke sighed, feeling like a five year old having to confess to doing something naughty again. “Octavia is kind of Bellamy’s younger sister and he doesn’t know about us yet.”

“Oh, Clarke,” Abby groaned. “We are doing such a shit job at avoiding complicated relationships. Just look at your Grandma Conlin, married six times. It must be genetic.”

Clarke snorted around a mouthful of wine and broke into giggles. “Well we can’t say she didn’t have fun while she was at it.” That did the trick and Abby started snickering, slapping her daughter’s shoulder in punishment.  Then she quieted down.

“I know you’re an adult and your choices are your own…”

“But this is probably going to backfire spectacularly on me. Yeah.” Clarke finished for her. “Can we change the topic and talk about you and Jackson for a few minutes. At least the PG-13 Cliff’s Notes version?”

There should never, ever be an expiration date on a child’s ability to embarrass their parent.

 

 

 

Christmas wasn’t just a kitschy little town, it was a major manufacturing center for holiday themed goods. The local economy had improved vastly when it became politically necessary to bring production back stateside instead of outsourcing jobs overseas.  So, for those little ‘made in the USA’ stickers, Christmas became quite the tourist draw in November and December (and July, actually). Which was why there was a massive Santa’s Village in the city center before Thanksgiving.

Octavia had gotten a second job working as a Santa’s Wench at the bar there, and Clarke bundled herself up and headed down there one Wednesday afternoon after her classes were over to see her. Her cheeks were pink from the bite in the air by the time she reached the archway at the entrance and joined the throng of tourists and the odd student as they wandered from stall to stall. She carefully avoided getting to close to the Weathermen stationed in the area. Clarke spotted the bar, Ruck Fudolph’s, and made a beeline for it.

It certainly was cozy and more than half the patrons were sipping mulled wine, the spices tickling her nostrils. It didn’t take her long to spot Octavia at all and Clarke couldn’t help her jaw dropping open at the sight of the costume she was wearing. If she thought Octavia looked great in the green elf outfit, she looked downright delicious in the Mrs.Claus-esque one. A short, flouncy red velvet skirt lined with white fuzz teased at the tops of her thighs and the top of the dress emphasized what cleavage she did have.

Clarke wanted to touch her so badly.

Sneaking up behind Octavia as she waited for an order to be filled at the bar, Clarke murmured into her ear. “Quick, come with me and I’ll take you away from the North Pole.” Octavia startled but craned her head around to smile at Clarke.

“Hey babe, you made it!” She bent backwards and gave Clarke a happy peck on her cheek, which only gave Clarke the warm fuzzies because they were feeling more comfortable being out in the open together. Then Octavia began playing along. “So you think I’m going to leave Santa and run away to be your mistress?”

Clarke wriggled her eyebrows. “I bet he can’t lick your candy cane the way I can.” At Octavia’s scrunched face, Clarke sighed and rolled her eyes self-deprecatingly. “Too cheesy?”

Octavia snorted and kissed her lightly on the lips. “It’s a good thing I find your nerdy flirting adorable.” And with that she smacked Clarke’s ass and hefted up her tray to deliver drinks to one of the tables in the corner. Clarke hung around for a bit, drank a cup of mulled wine, and extracted a promise from Octavia to do a little role-playing if she snuck her work uniform home one night.

 

 

 

There was a knock on her door that evening, while she was working on another project she had due before break. “Come in!” She called out, frowning at a mistake she’d have to go back and correct later.

“Hey.” Glancing up, she saw Finn nudging the door open, knuckles still brushing along the wood.

“Hey, Finn! Come on in.” She waved him in and he strolled over to her bed, taking a seat. That was when she spotted the serious look on his face. “What’s up?”

She stared at the straight slope of his nose and the dark slant of his brows as they furrowed, trying to decide the best way to say whatever it was he wanted to say. “I was in town this afternoon, at the Village. I saw you with Octavia Blake.”

It’s like she’s having an out-of-body experience and Clarke doesn’t realize she’s beginning to hyperventilate until Finn was bracing one hand on her shoulder and shaking his head in front of hers. “Clarke, I’m not going to tell Bellamy. Alright?”

She saw the sincerity in his brown eyes and took several calming breaths.  The lingering panic was still there, because this was not how she wanted people to find out. It had probably been a matter of time before someone saw her and Octavia together and recognized them. Looking at Finn, Clarke knew she had to at least explain. Setting aside her materials, Clarke moved until her back was braced against the wall.

“Octavia, she’s the one you’ve been dating this whole time, isn’t she?” Finn asked.

Clarke nodded. “Yeah. When I first met her, it was before I knew I was rooming with her brother. And it was stupid, I know, to continue to see each other like that. But we just kept telling ourselves that if this ended up becoming serious, then we’d cross that bridge when it came to it.”

Realization dawned on Finn’s face. “But it _has_ gotten serious.”

Clarke’s ‘ _yeah_ ’ was a whisper. “And we _are_ going to tell Bellamy. Octavia was going to get the ball rolling over the break and then broach the topic of being interested in me.”

“Clarke…” She doesn’t like the skepticism she’s hearing in Finn’s voice. “You know it might not be that easy where Bellamy is concerned. Not that his sister wants to date women in general, but that it’s the specifically woman he rooms with. And since you’ve been lying to him and hiding this from him for so long…”

“I _know_.” She repeated, sounding mulish to her own ears.

There was nothing else that could be said on the topic. So Finn pushed himself further onto the bed and sat shoulder to hip next to Clarke, lending her some moral support. “From what I’ve seen of their relationship, the Blakes are a complicated lot. But it’s always going to be them against everyone else in the end. I worry about you getting caught in the crossfire and being left out completely.”

“Like you and Raven?” Clarke decided to ask, because why not?  Finn chuckled, not the least bit offended.

“Raven and I are soulmates, just not quite in the way popularized by the media.” He explained with a fond smile. “Anyone that we want to be with romantically or sexually would have to accept the other’s presence in hers or my life.”

“Sounds complicated,” Clarke murmured.

“Only if they let it be. To us, it seems the simplest thing to understand.”  And with a flash of clarity, Clarke realized that it all did make sense. Her and Finn sat in companionable silence for several more minutes before he patted her knee and got up to head back to his room. He had one final thing to say before he opened her door.

“Clarke, even if Bellamy can’t deal with it, we’ll still be your friends. You know that, right?”

Emotion choked her for a moment. “I do now.  Thanks.”

 

 

Two students went missing the weekend before Thanksgiving, prompting Mayor Wallace to declare a curfew for the safety of the townspeople. Which didn’t help since there were several thousand college students wanting to blow off steam after their papers and exams were completed. Tension was simmering in town. In retrospect, that was what tripped Clarke up.

She had decided to head straight over to Octavia’s after her last exam, wanting to get some down time in with her girlfriend before she left with Bellamy to spend the holiday with their mom.  Clarke would be staying at her own mom’s house instead of the nearly empty dorms. Something about the forced cheerfulness around town as they did their level best to not look worried about the curfew and whatever that vague, distant danger was had Clarke in full-on denial mode.

She turned her phone off and tossed it on Octavia’s desk, smiling mock-predatorily as she wrapped her arms around her girlfriend and fell backwards onto the bed. “Six whole days without me, how will you ever manage?” Octavia said with a cheeky wink.

Clarke was already sliding her hands underneath Octavia’s top and dotting the long line of her neck with butterfly kisses. “Being sad and masturbating, probably at the same time.”

That got a snort of laughter to bubble out of Octavia’s mouth and Clarke bit her lip as she unzipped Octavia’s skirt and reached one hand in between the band of black hose and the firm muscles of her lower belly. Clarke was determined to get one orgasm out of the both of them before she had to head back to her room for the curfew.

They kissed sloppily as Clarke’s fingers wriggled their way past the closely shorn hair on Octavia’s pubis. Octavia undulated on top of Clarke, her eyes closing and her mouth dropping open. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of—“

The door burst open and Octavia froze, her eyes flying open at the interruption. “Bellamy?” Clarke’s heart thudded in her ribcage and she twisted her neck until she could see the man standing there in the doorway. And Bellamy was just standing there, staring at them.  She could see that he didn’t understand what he was seeing...until he did.  Something utterly stricken flashed across his face before he schooled it into a scowl.

“I see,” was all he said before storming out of the room.  And just like that, all hell broke loose.

Octavia had straightened her clothing before running out after him and Clarke could hear them shouting from down the hallway. It was ten minutes of sitting completely paralyzed on Octavia’s bed before she returned, looking simultaneously angry and teary. Clarke remembered hugs and reassurances that Octavia would keep talking to him while they were home for Thanksgiving. And then she had to head back to her dorm before the curfew.

The skies were darkening and a brittle wind was whipping up as she made her way to the sidewalk outside Vixen.  Only to nearly slam into the inert form of a Weatherman. He doesn’t do anything to move out of her way or even react to her. Her mother’s warning echoed in her ears and for a second, Clarke wondered if they were going to make her disappear tonight.  Bellamy would probably thank Mayor Wallace, she thought grimly. If she weren’t already feeling numb, Clarke would have been terrified. “Excuse me,” she muttered, hurrying past the man.

Finn was waiting outside the entrance to Dasher and Clarke’s anxiety ramped up by a factor of ten. Dread pooled in her belly. “How bad is it?”

Finn grimaced; smoothing the flyaway strands of his hair after the wind had bandied them about. “Well, Bellamy is up there right now stuffing a few things into a bag and demanding that Wells switch with him.”

Clarke groaned and dropped her face into her hands. “This isn’t how I wanted any of this to go, at all.”

“I know.” His phone chirped and Finn checked the message. “Alright, that was Miller. Bellamy’s in his room now, the coast is clear for you to get into yours. It’s probably best you two don’t talk, at least until he’s had a chance to calm down.”

Clarke sighed but accepted the advice.  Finn took pity on her and curled an arm around her shoulders before steering her inside the dormitory and towards the bank of elevators. The bell dinged and they stepped inside. Thinking about what a soap opera her life had just become, Clarke couldn’t help but muse out aloud. “It probably didn’t help that I had my hand down Octavia’s panties when he stormed in, did it?”

“No, it did not.”

 

 

 

Wells was unpacking a few things on Bellamy’s side of the room when she entered, glancing tentatively around. “Hey Clarke,” was all Wells said, not seeming particularly angry. A bit mystified, maybe, but his shoulders weren’t tensed the way they usually got when he was pissed off.

“Sorry about this.” Clarke figured starting with an apology right off the bat was the wise thing to do. She’d probably owe Miller a bigger apology. And, oh god, an apology wouldn’t even scratch the surface with Bellamy right now.

Wells shook his head. “It’s not putting me out by much. I’m not even sure what just happened, though.”

Clarke frowned. “Bellamy didn’t say?”

A shrug. “Bellamy pounded on the door and begged me to switch with him. I figured if he was reduced to pleading, it was serious. Figured I’d do him a solid.”

She closed her eyes and contemplated banging her head against the wall. “Well, you might as well hear it from me. You know the woman I’ve been dating all this time? Well it’s Octavia.”

Wells froze and straightened up, turning around to stare at her with his face slack. “Little sister Octavia? You…” He stared off in the distance as if trying to process the concept. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Clarke. But I think you have bigger balls than the rest of us put together.”

Clarke could only groan and take a few steps before she let herself pitch forward onto her bed, making the mattress springs squeak in alarm. “I’m so screwed,” she whined out into her pillow.

 

 

Wells was only her replacement roommate for another day before they all left for the Thanksgiving holidays. Clarke texted Octavia every day and called her in the evenings. From those conversations, she guiltily heard all about how Bellamy alternated between the stony silent treatment and being snappish when Octavia goaded him into actually talking to her.

The second night of break, Octavia called her, sounding a bit choked up. “All he said was that it hurt, being treated like someone who couldn’t be trusted with the truth.  And I know he’s right, that’s the worst part.” Clarke had done her best to calm her girlfriend down and make her feel better before they hung up for the night.

Thanksgiving day was a fairly casual production, and Clarke had invited Raven over since Finn’s family was going to New York to visit his mother’s relations and Raven didn’t want to be that far away for that long, having an important project due by the end of semester.  Clarke didn’t ask why Raven didn’t have family of her own to go to. “You have no idea how much delicious Jewish food I’m missing out on right now,” Raven moaned by means of introduction when Clarke opened the front door. Then she punched Clarke hard on the arm. “That’s for not telling me how much of a wanton hussy you are.”

“Bitch,” was added as an affectionate afterthought. Clarke could only sigh and lead Raven back towards the kitchen. They couldn’t just leave Abby to take care of most of the cooking, so having Raven alternate between scolding her and praising her in front of her mother was just going to have to be an uncomfortable situation Clarke had to endure.

They wore cheap, sparkly tiaras and ate their dinner on paper plates in the living room, already tipsy from the alcohol Abby had broken out when Raven had uttered the words “so was Octavia that good in bed or what?”

The women were halfway to a tryptophan coma when a knock sounded at the front door. Abby and Clarke tensed, looking at each other with worry. If this was something to do with Wallace… Abby got up and padded silently to the door, peering through the eyehole.  She visibly relaxed and unlocked it, opening it.

“Marcus, to what do I owe this visit?”

Raven elbowed Clarke. “Who’s Marcus?” She mouthed. Clarke shrugged, clueless herself. The distinctly masculine voice sounded again.

“My mother lives down the street from you, actually, and we’ve run out of chicken stock. I wondered if you might—“

“Have some to spare? Actually yes we do. Come on in, there should be a few cartons in the pantry.” Abby motioned to the man and he stepped inside. “Girls, this is Lieutenant Marcus Kane, he works at the fire department. Marcus, my daughter Clarke and her friend Raven.”

The younger women waved politely at Marcus, who looked amused at the sight of their lowbrow celebration. “Pleased to meet you.” He nodded as he followed behind Abby, through the swinging door to the kitchen.  Silence reigned for a beat before Raven opened her mouth.

“Please tell me your mom is tapping that.”

“God, Raven! No! Besides she’s already tapping something else that is fifteen years younger than she is.” Clarke scrunched her face up and stabbed at her green beans.

Raven whistled. “My apologies to Libby, but I’m glad I stayed. Your family is so entertaining, Clarke.”

Well, what could she say to that? Later, when they were alone upstairs, Raven broached the topic of Clarke’s disastrous life choices once more.  “Bellamy’s going to have to get over it, you know? Sure, the lying part really sucks, but based on the way I’ve heard you talk about this chick, you really care about her. That’s got to count for something.” Raven continued to entertain herself by poking around the guest room that was filled with Clarke’s old things from their first house.

Clarke could only lie there on the bed with her jeans unzipped. “Yeah, but it might never be the same with him and I again. Who wants to be roommates with someone who’s banging their sister regularly?”

Raven’s ponytail swished behind her as she bounced to a stop next to Clarke on the bed. “Maybe not,” she admitted. “But I still think he’ll come around. Heck, I might have an idea how to help that along.”

Clarke squinted up at her friend. “Really? How?”

Raven only grinned smugly. “You just leave it to me. Now, you promised to show me that bike your dad had.”

“But that would mean getting up and buttoning up my jeans.” Clarke moaned at the thought.

“Duh.”

 

 

 

The first time Clarke and Bellamy were in front of each other after the Incident, Clarke was headed down the hall for a morning shower before her classes and Bellamy was leaving for his own class. He froze for a second when he saw her, but clenched his jaw and finished locking the door and wordlessly strode away. Clarke sighed and tried not to feel too sorry for herself. Octavia had texted her the last night of the break and said that she’d made a breakthrough with her brother. Things were still strained between them, but Octavia had mentioned tears and hugs and a considerably less tense drive back to Christmas.

So all that remained was to deal with the rift between Bellamy and her.

Wells made a pretty great roommate in the meantime, and Clarke enjoyed having an opportunity to get to know him better. She even broached the topic of his father, and found out that Thelonious was making a good recovery. Something in the way he clutched his book told Clarke that Wells was well aware of what was going on behind the scenes in Christmas. The worry in his eyes deepened every time people brought up the Christmas Lighting ceremony that was going to happen on December 6th. Mayor Wallace would be donning a Santa Claus costume and officially ushering in the holiday season.

After only four days of having Wells as a roommate, Clarke came home one afternoon to see Monty re-potting a plant in the middle of her room. “Hey Clarke!” He gave her a friendly nod. “I’m your new roommate now. Bellamy pissed Miller off and Miller kicked him out, so _do-si-do_ he’s in our room now. I thought I’d move in so you’re not lonely.”

He said the last so casually and without guile before turning his attention back to the plant, Clarke got choked up. She flew across the room in four steps and kneeled down so she could squeeze her arms around Monty’s torso in a bear hug.

 

 

 

Bellamy didn’t come to game night. They were in the middle of a hand of poker and Clarke had talked them all into trying this new face masque, made with oatmeal and honey. So the six of them made for a rather hilarious sight, sitting around Clarke’s room with the gunk slathered over their face, trying to bluff their way into not losing their candy and alcohol stashes. 

Raven and Miller had rather notorious sweet tooths, and they kept scooping bits of the mask off their face to eat. Clarke gave up on trying to scold them and focused on her hand. A knock sounded at the door and Monty, being the closest, headed over to see who it was.

“Hey, Bellamy.” Clarke froze and stared over at the doorway.

“The fuck is on your face, Green?”

“Something that’s going to keep my skin looking youthful and supple, Bellamy. You shouldn’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

Bellamy barely let his eyes flit over the rest of the group. “Whatever, I just need to grab a few things.” And then he was shouldering his way past Monty and rifling through his closet The tension in the room had ramped up and Clarke decided that she wasn’t going to just sit around anymore and wait for Bellamy to figure out how he was going to deal with her.

He was out the door with a muttered goodbye, and Clarke excused herself from the game to run after him.

“Bellamy. Bellamy, wait!” He ignored her again. “Stop being such a coward and face me.”

That got a reaction. Bellamy halted and spun around, looking like it was on the tip of his tongue to shout at her but he pressed his lips tightly together to swallow the anger. Finally, he shrugged, looking exhausted. “What do you want me to say, Clarke?”

“I just want you to listen when I tell you that this wasn’t how I wanted you to find out. I want you to believe me when I say I really care about Octavia.” She stared up at him beseechingly, imploring him to see that she was telling the truth. Bellamy chuckled mirthlessly.

“Oh, I know that. Octavia told me all about how you broke up with her in October because you wanted to come clean but she wasn’t ready.  I just keep thinking of all those moments where you said things and you meant Octavia. Like the night you told me that you got back together with her and that she was worth it. Shit, Clarke, I basically watched my friend be brokenhearted because of my sister and now I don’t know whose side I’m supposed to be on. But I’m apparently no different from the person I was one year ago that my sister and friend don’t think I can handle them falling in love with each other without losing it.”

Clarke closed her eyes, too ashamed to construct a rebuttal.  Bellamy said nothing further, just took his things and left. Clarke leaned back against the wall for a minute, trying not to cry. Her nerves were shot just from that confrontation because now she saw just how much Bellamy had held her in esteem. And whether she had wanted to or not, she’d played as much a role in making that seem like nothing as Octavia had.

 

 

 

But something did change, because two days later Bellamy was back in their room, sitting on his bed reading a thick book with exaggerated concentration when she entered. Barely daring to even breathe lest she scare him away, Clarke gently set her bag on her desk and went about her business with no sudden movements. She was slowly tapping away on her laptop when she became aware of Bellamy’s eyes boring into her.

“Yes?” Her voice came out much higher pitched than it normally was. She stared at him expectantly.

“We’re gonna lay down a few ground rules.  One: you’re not going to have sex with my sister in this room. Two: I don’t want to hear details. Three: I’m probably going to take her side if you break up, so keep that in mind.”

Clarke’s fingers froze an inch above the keyboard. “Okay,” she squeaked out.

“Alright then.” It was like Bellamy hadn’t thought past this point because the scowl he’d had on his face melted away and he looked like he was debating saying anything further, but decided to go back to his reading.

Clarke’s heart was pounding, but the relief she felt in that moment seemed to melt away some of the tension that had been in her gut for the past two weeks.  The thaw was slow going, but gradually they started relaxing around each other and Clarke found herself staring at her roommate through her eyelashes. Bellamy got a text around dinnertime that had him blushing and Clarke’s curiosity was piqued. He tossed his phone aside for a moment, but then picked it back up and tapped out a reply to whomever had just contacted him.

That was when Clarke noticed the marks. Bellamy had hickeys peeking out of the collar of his sweater and she had to train her eyebrows to not shoot up into her hairline. Roma had been long gone and she hadn’t the faintest idea who would make Bellamy Blake blush like _that_. Shame that she didn’t feel like they were friendly enough again to ask him outright.

She doesn’t spend the night at Octavia’s, though. She’s just too terrified of losing what little friendship she has regained with Bellamy to tell him to his face that she wasn’t going to be in the room for the night. _Hey Bellamy, I’m going to fuck your sister’s brains out.  Later._ Yeah, that would go over well. So Octavia had to be content with mid-afternoon quickies which, as hot as they were, weren’t quite enough for her.

“I swear to god, Clarke, I’m starting to think Bellamy’s found a way to ruin things between us!” Octavia bit out in frustration one evening as she watched Clarke pull on her partially ripped panties with a guilty expression.

“It’s not forever, O. Things are getting better, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” she had to admit. “Whatever. I’m not bringing home my work costume until you promise we’re gonna have a night to ourselves.” She arched one eyebrow up at Clarke, unconcerned with her completely naked body being on display.

And fuck, if that didn’t make Clarke whimper.

 

 

When the night of the lighting ceremony arrived, they all decided to go there as a group, with the intention of grabbing some alcohol afterwards and getting drunk in their rooms later. It was also the first time Clarke and Octavia were going to go somewhere as a couple, right in front of Bellamy and Clarke’s friends. To say she was a bit nervous was an understatement.

Octavia, on the other hand, didn’t seem the least bit ruffled. She came bouncing out of her dorm building with barely a wave to her brother before she flung her arms around Clarke and kissed her soundly.  “Missed you, babe!” And Clarke couldn’t help beaming at her girlfriend and kissing her right back before they locked their gloved hands together and started following behind the rest of her friends.

Bellamy didn’t seem _that_ put out by the display of affection.

While Octavia was arguing with Monty about some band or another, Clarke sidled up to Raven who looked pretty happy herself. “Hey you, what’s happened to put that smile on your face?”

Raven jerked her chin towards where Bellamy and Finn were walking nearly shoulder to shoulder. “I told you I had it handled.” It takes Clarke an embarrassingly long time to understand what Raven just implied.

“Oh my god. The hickeys…” And then she saw Finn’s hand brush against Bellamy’s and Bellamy returning the covert caress. “Oh…my…god. You and Finn and Bellamy?” She hissed at Raven with wide eyes.

Raven stuck her finger in Clarke’s face. “And before you go saying that it’s mean to do that with an ulterior motive, this was definitely not all about you and Octavia.”

Clarke typically prided herself on being observant, but in this case, everything hit her in hindsight. “You’ve been after him for months now. Wow, I am really obtuse.”

“Nah,” Raven said, taking pity on her. “You’re just a bit self-absorbed.” The last was said in a teasing tone and Clarke simply pouted at her friend.

“Ha ha.”

She decided to not give any further thought to the complicated sex lives of her friends and focused on having a fun night with them. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and Clarke tugged off her gloves so she could hit the passcode.  What she read made her stop cold.

 

**_Wallace knows. They’re coming for me. Run._ **

**_I love you._ **

 

Panic gripped her, making her feel as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the world. Raven was crowding around her shoulder to read the texts and Clarke could only raise stricken eyes to Raven’s concerned ones. “Clarke, what’s—“

Their friends stopped, having noticed that something had happened. Clarke met Wells’ eyes and rushed up to him. “My mom knows about what Wallace is doing to the people he disappears. And now Wallace knows she knows. The Weathermen are going after my mom right now.” If anyone would understand…

Wells’ face darkened and he seemed to be running down their options. “If they’re going after your mother, they’ll go after you. And me, too. If we go over there, we might stand a chance helping her escape.”

Wells grabbed her hand and they were about to break into a run when a shrill whistle sounded behind them. Clarke and Wells turned to see the rest of their friends standing there with half-angry, half-expectant looks on their faces. Octavia removed her fingers from her mouth and gave Clarke a ‘ _what the fuck do you think you’re doing_ ’ look. Her expression was mirrored by them all: Monty, Raven, Miller, Finn, and Bellamy.

“Hey, do you guys want to share with the rest of the class?”

Clarke took a deep breath. “Mayor Wallace is the one making people disappear around town to give himself the mandate to use the Weathermen. My mom found evidence that the dead bodies are being harvested for their organs. And they’re coming for her right now. I have to go, she’s all I have left.”

Fear was like a cold vise around her ribcage, making it nearly impossible for Clarke to think about anything but her looming worst fear: losing her mother after having already lost her father.

“The fuck you two are going alone. If the Weathermen are dangerous, you’ll need more numbers and we’re it.” Miller pointed out, knowing he was right. Clarke belatedly remembered that he was the son of a cop. Monty nodded in agreement, looking more serious than she had ever seen him. Finn was already walking in their direction, Bellamy at his heels.  Clarke didn’t even try to fight them or tell them to not come. She didn’t know what she would find when she made it to her mom’s house and it did give her a cold comfort to know she wouldn’t be facing it alone.

It took fifteen minutes of jogging through the nippy breeze to reach Evergreen Lane, and Octavia clutched Clarke’s hand the entire journey. “Bellamy- you, Miller, Finn, and Raven go around the back. I’ll go through the front with Clarke, Monty, and Octavia.” Wells ordered, to which there were no arguments. Not even from Bellamy who took his sister’s elbow and whispered something to her before the y hugged tightly and parted ways.

Clarke stepped up the dark porch slowly, trying the doorknob and finding it unlocked. The door squeaked softly as she swung it open, clutching the vial of pepperspray she always carried on her keychain. “Mom?”

The house was deathly silent as the three of them stepped through the living room. Nobody answered her. She pointed up the stairs to Wells and he nodded, heading for the dining room. Octavia was behind her as they slowly made their way to the second floor. No lights were on and Clarke’s eyes darted from side to side, trying to detect if anybody was hiding in the dark corners. 

They started with her mom’s room, but she wasn’t there, not even in the bathroom. Heading back through the master bedroom, Clarke chanced a look out the window.  She gasped when she saw the solitary form of a Weatherman standing across the street, looking up at her.  Octavia’s scream broke the silence.

“Bellamy, look out!”

Clarke ran into the hallway and saw Octavia staring out the window there that overlooked the back yard. Over her shoulder Clarke saw that the rest of her friends were being physically attacked by five Weathermen, all brandishing their shock wands. “Oh, no,” Clarke whimpered. Her and Octavia rushed down the stairs, intending to get outside to help them.

They stopped short when the back door opened and Santa Claus loomed in the space, smiling coldly down at them.

“That’s Wallace,” Octavia whispered, recognition lighting up her face with horror.  Clarke was terrified, but beyond that, she was angry.

“What did you do to my mother?” She demanded of the mayor.

“Security requires sacrifice, Miss Griffin. The world’s a dangerous place, and our town won’t prosper if we don’t all agree on that. I cannot tolerate any threat to Christmas, whatever that may require me to do.”

Mayor Wallace held up what looked like a gun and aimed it at Octavia, who was still partially in front of Clarke.  Clarke didn’t even think, she shoved her to the side, knocking them both to the ground, just avoiding being hit by the dart. Clarke wasn’t sure what the dart contained but she wasn’t about to risk finding out.

“Octavia, run. Now!” Clarke screamed at her girlfriend. Octavia Blake might not be one to listen to people, but she obeyed this time. As soon as Octavia was rushing towards the garage door, Clarke shot off in the direction of the front door, Wallace in close pursuit in his ridiculous Santa suit. She darted out into the street, only to find herself pinned down by headlights. Too blinded and paralyzed to react, she could only stand there and stare down her death…then the headlights veered to the side and she finally made out her mother’s car as it barrelled past her and rammed right into Wallace, sending him flying into the air before he hit the sidewalk in a broken heap.

Dimly, Clarke was aware that Monty and Wells had just come from around the back, looking a little worse for the wear. They came to a stop on either side of Clarke and stared down at the…yup, definitely dead body of Dante Wallace.

“Dude,” Monty told her, looking horrified. “Your mom just killed Santa Claus.”

 

 

 

Twenty minutes later, Clarke could do little but sit on the front porch clutching Octavia to her while her friends stood nearby watching the red and green police lights flash.  They’d already filled her in on what had happened out back with the Weathermen.  Miller was still gripping the bloody baseball bat he’d used to knock two of them out.  Even Octavia had garnered a body count, knocking one unconscious with a heavy rock to the head. The police officers on the scene had already promised Raven they wouldn’t be troubling her for having nearly electrocuted one to death. Wells had questioned the wisdom of Lt Kane bringing in the local cops, but Kane had explained that the Weathermen had been making the PD’s jobs harder, so there was no love lost between them and Wallace’s men.

“But why are the Weathermen so docile now?” Clarke pondered. Four that weren’t being transported to the hospital under guard were simply sitting on the curb, sans gas masks and sans Santa hats.

“Because of this.” Finn piped up  from her left, holding up a whistle. “It emitted a tone that triggered their obedience. I saw him drop it and grabbed it. It’s probably the reason why Bellamy didn’t get electrocuted to death—when I blew it they all just stopped.”

“Behavioral  conditioning,” Wells explained.  “It was a theory my dad had for why Wallace would even bother with a separate security force when it would create conflict with local LEOs.”

“Well, shit. So much for living in a sleepy little town.” Miller muttered. “My dad’s going to be so pissed when he finds out.”

“Are you guys sure you’re okay?” Abby asked as she crossed her arms tightly in front of her to ward off the cold. “Paramedics are here if you need any treatment.”

“I think we all came through it without more than a few bruises and cuts, Mom.  Are you sure _you’re_ okay?” Clarke saw the blood on her mom’s lip and the discoloration by her eye that heralded the start of a nasty shiner. Abby smiled wanly at her.

“I’m sure. Because everything’s a mess, I’ll be staying with Vera Kane for a while, until the house is no longer a crime scene.”

“I could stay with you—“ Clarke began to offer, standing before her mom.

“No, no I’ll be okay. You stay with your friends. You’re going to have to give a statement tomorrow, but the less you are around this, the better.”

“I love you mom.”  Clarke wrapped her arms around her mother and breathed in her familiar scent. _She’s okay. They’re all okay_. _You’re okay._

“I love you too, sweetie.  So much.”

 

 

Snow had begun falling by the time the exhausted group trudged back to the Dasher dormitory. Octavia didn’t make a single move to head over to her dorm, nor did she disengage from Clarke’s side. She followed Clarke and Bellamy into their room and gave her brother a pointed stare. “I’m crashing here tonight.”

“Okay.” If Octavia was surprised that Bellamy had relented so easily, she didn’t show it.

Sleep was fitful, but every time Clarke jerked half-awake during the night, she felt Octavia’s soft breathing on her face and snuggled closer before drifting back to sleep. It was after eight when she finally blinked her eyes open to see the bright light that filled the room. Craning her neck, Clarke saw grey skies and the steady stream of snowflakes falling outside her window. In the night, she had rolled over and now Octavia was curled up against her back.

Looking across the room, she saw that Bellamy’s eyes were open and he was watching them sleepily.  “Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey.” Whatever Bellamy might have said next was interrupted by their door clicking open. Clarke saw Raven peek her head inside and focus her attention on Bellamy.

“Come to breakfast with Finn and I?” She murmured, keeping her voice soft for the sake of the still-sleeping Octavia.

“Yeah, sure. Give me a minute.” Bellamy started rubbing the sleep from his eyes and Raven disappeared from the doorway. Clarke was so warm and comfortable there, under the covers sharing body heat with Octavia. She felt like she could just melt into the impression left by their bodies.  She let her eyes drift closed once more as Bellamy stumbled around the room, tugging on proper clothes and his winter coat.

“Clarke?” She opened her eyes to see him pausing by the door. Bellamy was staring at his side of the room before he looked at her. “You’re the best friend I’ve got in this place.” He finally said.  And that was all she needed to know.

“You too.”  The smile he shot her softened his face and she returned it with one of her own. For the first time, Clarke felt as if things might just be alright with them all. Maybe her and Bellamy wouldn’t remain roommates next semester, but they’d still be friends.  And Octavia…she still had Octavia. Wriggling under the covers, she turned back around until she was facing her girlfriend’s peaceful face.

Leaning closer, Clarke pressed a feather-soft kiss to Octavia’s nose. Then her cheek. Her eyebrow was when Octavia began to squirm and frown. Other cheek.  The side of her mouth…

“Clarke?”

“Hm?”

“Is there a reason why you’re being such a sap at stupid o’clock in the morning?” She grumbled.

“Do I need a reason? Maybe things in this town are looking a lot more festive and cheerful to me. And you like it when I’m a sap.” Clarke pointed out.

Octavia smiled as she hummed. “Mm. Yeah I do.”

 

 

 

“Clarke?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you still lost?”

 

 

“No, not anymore.”

 


End file.
